


and x don't equal y

by archetypically



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Nova (Comics)
Genre: Everyone read Nova 2017, Gen, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, We were robbed when Marvel cancelled that book way too early
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 18:56:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archetypically/pseuds/archetypically
Summary: Does this actually make sense to anybody? Why does it even matter? It’s not like he’s going to need to know how to add polynomials the next time he has to fight stupid beard planet, anyway.Superheroes don’t need math. This is totally a known fact, ask anyone.
Relationships: Richard Rider & Sam Alexander
Kudos: 22





	and x don't equal y

**Author's Note:**

> from the prompt _rich showing up at sam's house after something goes Wrong in space and he doesn't know where else to go_. also an excuse for more of the rich and sam dynamic from nova (2017) that i loved so much.

Sam _knows_ he’s been staring at the same problem for at least the past fifteen minutes, but there’s a difference between managing to open up the math book and finding the motivation to actually start working. He has to make this effort, though, because his mom _definitely_ wasn’t happy with the grade he got on his last pre-cal test that he’ll just straight-up admit he didn’t study for, and when his mom isn’t happy, no one in this house is happy; the cracks in household peace over the past couple of weeks have been more than apparent.

“Math homework done before dinner,” she’d said as soon as he’d gotten home this afternoon, in the kind of tone that’d had the _or else_ strings attached. He knows better than to argue with it.

A breeze blows in through the open window in his room and rustles some papers, and it takes some maneuvering to both clamp them down and shut the window with one hand, but, hey, he manages it. And that kills about another five minutes on the clock, which means that _now_, he really needs to concentrate.

Okay, okay. He rubs his eyes, picks up a pencil, and bends over the math book again.

_1\. (3x3 \+ 3x2 – 4x + 5) + (x3 – 2x2 \+ x – 4)_

Does this actually make sense to anybody? Why does it even matter? It’s not like he’s going to need to know how to add polynomials the next time he has to fight stupid beard planet, anyway.

Superheroes don’t need math. This is totally a known fact, ask anyone.

He bangs his forehead against his desk.

_Like terms_, he reminds himself, and he puts pencil to paper in such a way that it looks like he might actually get something done, but then –

_KRAAAAKKK-BOOM._

The whole house practically shakes from the force of the sound outside, one that Sam recognizes in an instant.

He drops his pencil, crouches on the floor to reach under his bed for his helmet, and races down the stairs, only dimly catching a “Sammy! Homework?” as he does. (Which he, of course, ignores. His mom’s wrath or not, this is hero business. He’ll figure out how to make up for it later.)

The sight that greets him when he reaches the backyard, a gold-helmeted figure hunched over on the grass, clearly trying to catch his breath, isn’t a surprise. Still, he asks:

“Rich?”

“Hey, kid.” Rich still sounds a little breathless; it’s a moment before he hoists himself up off of the ground. He turns, and there’s this half-smirk that starts to pull on his mouth that Sam thinks can’t lead anywhere good. “Is that – _math_ on your face?”

Yeah, definitely not good.

Sam balances his helmet in one hand and reaches the other toward toward his face, only to find a loose page from his math notebook stuck to the side of it.

“Shut up,” he grumbles as he peels it from his skin and crumples it into a ball. Even after he’s tossed it onto the ground, Rich is still smiling.

Ugh.

It doesn’t last, though, because Rich’s face soon turns grim and serious.

“The Corps. They’re…” Rich trails off then, but Sam already knows what’s coming before the thought finishes. You don’t forget the faces or the voices of the people who told you that your dad’s probably never coming home again. “We’re it.” Another beat of silence, then: “I’m about to ask you to do something dangerous. And I wish I didn’t have to, but I really need your help.”

Sam turns the words over in his head, tightly grips the helmet in his hands as he does. He could have an out, he knows, and if whatever’s going on really is that dangerous, he thinks about it for a split second for the benefit of his mom and Kaelynn. But he knows that it wouldn’t sit right with him to stay on the sidelines when he could do something. He carries a legacy, and that’s not what it stands for.

“Novas always gotta step up,” he says, quiet but firm.

“Yeah.” Rich nods his understanding. “Yeah, we do.”


End file.
